


She Walks A Fine Line

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars: Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Adoption, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Family, Established Poe Dameron/Finn, Even Though It Shouldn't, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gay Parents, Gray Jedi, Heavy Angst, Kind of Reylo, Knights of Ren - Freeform, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rey Needs A Hug, Reylo babies, Rose Is Everyone's Aunt, The Force Ships It, Unhealthy Relationships, Ying Yang, but not really, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14085348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fifteen years have passed since the Resistance was forced into hiding, and since Rey mysteriously gave birth to a daughter, seemingly out of nowhere. Dawnya has spent her whole life fleeing from world to world, without so much as a planet to call home. Her connection to the Force grows with each passing day, and Rey realizes that she is dangerously powerful. The light calls to the apprentice, but so does the dark. And with it, Kylo Ren, determined to claim his bloodline once and for all.Dawnya is an outcast among the outcasts. She's unstable. Mysterious. Off-putting. Some even speculate that she's sociopathic. With seemingly the entire galaxy against her, she feels equally cynical and resentful towards everything. She knows that she has a place in this story, but she doesn't know how to find it. The tug-of-war over her soul threatens to tear the very fabric of her mind apart. Rey wants Dawnya to be a Jedi. Kylo wants her to be a dark knight. But Dawnya was never one to follow a set course, and decides to carve out her own destiny.Her goal: to free the galaxy from the iron clutches of the First Order.





	She Walks A Fine Line

Shara's heart pounded, thrumming hard against her rib cage. Her eyes narrowed as she forced herself to focus through the chaos of the dogfight. Everything around her was color, noise, and light. She exhaled, her legs shaking against the narrow walls of the cockpit.

_So this is what battle really is._

_How do the pilots stay sane?_

She maneuvered the x-wing around the star destroyer, dodging TIE-fighter fire. It took her a few moments to regain her bearings after such a spin, but she surprised herself by pulling around and instinctively pumping her finger on the trigger, aiming to take out several TIEs. She was rewarded with a satisfying explosion, and couldn't help but smile with glee at her achievement. _A TIE!_

"Nice one, crimson three!" Maio Kye's voice crackled into her comlink. "Didn't think you had it in you!"

Despite herself, Shara's face flushed with indignation. "How about I blow you up instead, crimson five?"

"Very funny," he shot back, and she rolled her eyes.

"I can't loose them!" shouted Allan Winchester. Shara glanced at her computer. Her eyes widened as she saw Allan's fighter spiral out of control, its upper-left wing smoking. 

"Crimson two, four, cover him," Yna Starck ordered. "Everyone else, spread out and press the attack."

"Copy that, crimson leader."

Shara pulled the fighter up and took out another TIE. She dodged the fire of two more, and fired a torpedo at one that appeared to be heavily modified, but it flew upwards, dodging her attack entirely. A moment later she found that she was right about it being modified; it fired an impossibly powerful blast in her direction. She barely managed to maneuver out of the way with a frantic shriek, causing the charge to hit the main First Order ship. 

Shara's breath caught in her throat as the side of the star destroyer burst into flame. Her x-wing, perpendicular to that same side, was consumed by a white-hot burst of fire. She knew that it could handle the heat, but the glare of the fire didn't frighten her any less. Eventually it faded, leaving the x-wing charred and singed, but otherwise no worse for the wear. 

Suddenly Allan yelled, and then his transmission cut out. On the other side of the destroyer, Shara saw a ball of flames wreaking havoc on the remains of a shattered a-wing. "Crimson six is down!" she reported, her mind tiring from the constant multi-tasking required of participating in a dogfight. 

"So are crimson five and two," Yna said grimly. "Three, four, seven, take out the TIEs. We need to buy time for---" Her message was cut off by the sound of her own shout of surprise, and then warbled into an eerie static. 

Shara's eyes flickered to her computer scanners, and her heart stopped. "First Order reinforcements arriving!"

"How many?" asked Illyn Maloray, her voice shrill. 

" _Too many_!"

That was when a blast rocked Shara's fighter. It tumbled sideways, and her elbow slammed into her computer, inadvertently commanding her droid, BBK-47, to launch itself out of the x-wing. And it did, leaving her without an astromech. "Dammit, dammit," she muttered under her breath, her hands moving on the controls to restabilize herself. Before she could recover, she looked up to find a storm of laserfire flying towards the ship. Despite herself, she braced for the impact, holding her breath. Just when she thought she was done for, everything around her shattered, and flickered out, revealing something else entirely. It was eerily quiet. She was seated in the cockpit, but screens shimmered around her instead of an x-wing. A man stood with a holo device, taking notes.

"Good job in the simulation, cadet," he said gruffly. "Grade B."

Still wide-eyed and shaky with adrenaline, Shara swung her legs out of the pilot seat and looked at her instructor with dismay. "But, Lieutenant--"

"'I said good job and I mean it. You've improved immensely since you first began training. Just a year ago you could barely get yourself off the ground. And with luck, you'll soon be able to outfly General Dameron. Now go to the spectating area." He waved her away with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Yes sir," she mumbled, dipping her head respectfully. She scurried away from the sim, passing her fellow cadets, each wrapped up in their own virtual battle. It always unnerved her how real the sim felt, to the point where everyone forgot that it wasn't actually life or death. It got your adrenaline flowing.

She made her way to the end of the corridor, where the cadets were gathered around several holo-screens with footage from the sims. Maio looked up at her and gestured for her to sit with the rest of the group. Shara hesitated, biting her lip, then shook her head apologetically. She sat down on a bench next to Dawnya, far away from everyone else. Dawnya was the cadet squadron's most recent addition. Although she was a formidable soldier, piloting was not Dawnya's forte. Looking at the statistics list, Shara saw that her friend was ranked second-to-last in performance. Indeed, the black-haired girl looked rather forlorn. 

Neither of the two teenagers said anything for a long while, just kicking the edge of their bench with their heels. After several long moments, Dawnya made an inquiry about her performance. 

Shara shrugged. "Grade B," she replied. "Could've been better, but at least I didn't implode my own ship." She laughed, then cringed at the memory of her first time in the simulation, where she'd done exactly that. But then her jovial attitude faded when she saw Dawnya's pained expression. "Hey," she said softly. "What's wrong?" 

Dawnya didn't respond for several moments, only kicking the back of the bench with her heels and glaring at the flashy footage. On it, the only remaining pilot, Illyn, was kicking all kinds of virtual ass. The pilots whooped and cheered as the red-skinned Twi'lek-human pumped her triggers. Her lekkus were small enough that they could be tucked into her helmet. Although her teeth were gritted in concentration, her eyes were wild with exhilaration as she zipped and weaved through the chaos, narrowly avoiding the crossfire produced by the TIEs. 

Shara was so distracted by the holo that she barely noticed Dawnya's resigned huff. The other girl rested her head in the curve of her palm. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "I barely lasted thirty seconds out there."

Despite the hurt and desperation that sharpened her voice, Shara didn't try to comfort Dawnya; she knew that she would only get offended. So she focused her attention back on the dancing, flickering holo, and wondered how in the galaxy Illyn was still flying.

Judging by the excited murmurings of the cadets, they too were thinking that. Indeed, even the level-headed Yna was all but jumping up and down in her seat. She squealed with glee as Illyn managed to avoid another horde of First Order fighters. The Rhylothian's face started to get more and more panicked as additional TIEs entered the vicinity. But she continued to zip through, spinning dizzily and knocking out opponents. At one point, Shara stiffened as she saw the modified TIE from earlier moving into attack position, guns whirring. It fired an ionic blast in the direction of the x-wing, narrowly missing. A second blast hit the ship, and sent it ricocheting backwards, crackling and sparking. Panicked, Illyn tried to reset the disrupted controls, with no success. So she watched with round eyes as a hail of blaster fire flew through space towards her, and flinched as her x-wing fell apart in open space. Then the screen shut off. 

A moment later, Illyn came jogging through the corridor, breathless. She was greeted by several eager cadets, who swarmed her with questions. Her expression was vague and dazed, and she only blinked in apparent bewilderment. Maio gripped her arm and led her to a nearby bench, where she seemed to readjust to the real world.

Their instructor followed suit. He was a formidable, tall man with grey hair and a scarred face, very imposing. "Excellent marks," he reported. "Infinitely improved from yesterday." At that, the teens giggled to one another, recalling their rather awful previous performance. "Class dismissed. Go about your duties."

They all got up and started to talk excitedly to one another. Shara looked for Dawnya, but her friend had seemingly disappeared. So she went over to Maio and their other friends. She brushed one of her ebony braids behind her ear, squinting. The lighting in this hallway was an painful white, washing out her warm brown skin in a rather ugly way. Maio's face just looked plain bleached. He grinned at her, in that annoyingly cocky way of his. Which felt undeserved, considering that she had lasted longer than he had.

But when she pointed this out, his smirk only widened. "You lasted longer, but I got more kills. That makes me the winner."

"Whatever," Shara grumbled, rolling her eyes in his direction. She didn't feel like arguing with him now. "What do you have next?"

He tilted his head with a frown, thinking. "Watchtower duty." His voice was dull.

"Oh." Shara suppressed a laugh at his comically desolate tone. "I've got combat practice for two. Freaking. Hours." She winced at the thought. "Wish me luck."

"You'll need it."

She swatted his forearm, and was faintly surprised by how firm it was. "Shut your trap."

Maio snorted, but complied with her wish. 

 

Dawnya had someplace to be. Rey always became rather prickly whenever she resisted training. It wasn't that Dawnya was lazy or slacking. No, whenever she opened herself up to the Force, she felt _pained._ It was like there were two beings playing tug of war with her very essence. One was peaceful and serene, but untrustworthy. The other, violent and frightening. 

When her training had began, Rey had reassured her that this effect would fade with experience and time. But it never did. Not once, not ever. And it got worse every time, light and dark tugging at her soul. She didn't know how much longer she could maintain it.

So now she stalled, her cheeks already burning with embarrassment from the display of her flying skills ... or lack thereof. Dawnya had wandered off in the opposite direction of the others, which was par for the course. She now walked idly through a command center, the officers not paying her any attention. Through the window she saw the pale yellow sky of the planet Cryx II, and the plain brown mountains breaking the horizon. 

Dawnya continued to make her way through the room. That was when a tall, dark-skinned man stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His eyes brightened as he recognized her. "Dawnya?"

Dawnya cringed. It was Finn. Now there was no way for her to sneak off without notice. But she kept herself composed, smiling warmly. "Commander," she said warmly. "How are things?"

Finn shrugged, checking a clipboard. "Same as always. Well, aside from a gas leak. The techs and maintenance workers nearly had a heart attack, but it's been taken care of." He frowned, crossing his arms. "I can't wait until we can get off this damn planet."

"It's better than the last one," Dawnya pointed out bitterly, and they shared a mutual wince, recalling the miserable, desolate red sands of Vexel. 

"Not in my opinion. Any planet with a kind-of harmful atmosphere is worse than a frigid desert, and you can't convince me otherwise." Finn crossed his arms. "Don't you have Force training?" Dawnya nodded glumly, and he let out a chuckle. He patted her on the shoulder. "Kick some butt for me, hmm?" Her lips curled upwards into an amused grin, and she promised that she would.

As she walked, passing officers and pilots, her fingers slipped to her belt, and the handle sticking out of one of the two sheaths. She felt the intricate markings on its rim. She'd carved the words, "Light casts shadows" in Aurebesh into this one, much to Rey's annoyance. Those three words had haunted Dawnya's nightmares for as long as she could remember. Just one voice after another. Some sinister, others benevolent. All unknown to her. Worst of all was when the Supreme Leader came into her dreams. His obsidian gaze would pierce her soul, and invisible fingers would rummage through her mind and violate her spirit. All while Dawnya was paralyzed and helpless, both from fear and Force.

Those were the worst nightmares of all, because they were _real_. Sometimes, she'd wake up with red marks or bruises, or some other physical indication of what had transpired. She couldn't tell Rey---she was especially touchy regarding Kylo Ren---although Dawnya sometimes felt that her mother had some suspicions.

Dawnya realized that she was drifting off into her own, chaotic world, as per usual. She made herself focus, and continued to trace the letters carved into the metal hilt. She felt something tug at her gut, and she stiffened. Dawnya tried to sense who it was, then relaxed. It was Arador Holst, a young Force-sensitive they'd found a few years back on the desolate moon Raada. She sensed that he was meditating, reaching out with his feelings, and she knew that he could feel her presence too. He directed a welcoming feeling at her. She could almost picture him saying hello, in that dulcet voice of his. Dawnya smiled to herself, her grin uncharacteristically wide, and a warm feeling bubbled in her chest. She quickly made sure to repress it before Arador saw anything else.

"Be right there," she muttered under her breath. After several minutes of walking, she reached the training room. Arador had drawn out a simple green lightsaber, and was eyeing it nervously. Rey's pulsed a pale blue. It crackled and sparked, and Dawnya recalled how the kyber crystal inside had been fractured, rendering the legendary weapon unstable.

"Uh, I still feel like I'm about to cut off my hand," Arador said, his voice quivering. He glanced up as he noticed Dawnya, and his face brightened. "Oh good, you're here."

Rey smiled warmly. "Dawnya. And on time, for once." She whistled, and spun her blade, flicking her wrist. "Can you help me demonstrate to Holst that lightsabers won't automatically cut their user's hand off?"

Dawnya glanced amusedly at Arador, who shuffled his feet with a sheepish expression. She nodded and activated her two lightsabers. Both were white, and functioned more as daggers. Each humming blade was a foot long, and had an unorthodox grip on the hilt, so that she could maneuver them with these.

This didn't seem to convince Arador in the slightest. He bit his lip and stared shyly at his feet. "I'm still too scared," he admitted. "What if my grip slips, and I slash my arm off accidentally?"

Rey sighed; clearly they'd been discussing this subject for quite awhile. Her patience was running thin. "It becomes like an extension of your body," she explained. "With time and practice you'll become so attuned with your saber that you'll won't have to worry about such a thing. That's where the Force comes in handy." She smiled, her hazel eyes twinkling. "There's a reason lightsabers are wielded predominantly by Force-sensitives." 

Arador's eyes widened with understanding, although he still looked extremely doubtful. Dawnya pitied the hopelessly innocent teenage boy. 

"Why don't you take a break, Arador?" Rey suggested. "You can read over the ancient texts while Dawnya practices her Soresu form."

Dawnya sighed. Soresu was her least favorite and her weakest form. Unfortunately, that meant she had to drill it as much as possible. So she knelt onto the ground and activated a spherical training droid. It warbled in binary and hovered in the air, propelling itself backwards several feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling a ripple through the Force that proceeded the droid's blaster shot. She quickly brought up her right saber to meet the laser. It crackled and sparked white-blue where it made contact with the blast. She continued this for some time, until a sheen of sweat glistened on her face and her breaths came fast and heavy. At the end of the hour, the droid shot two lasers at her at once, she was too fatigued to react, and winced as they made contact with her shoulder. Nothing damaging, but still, it stung like hell.

"You can go now," Rey said, her face set. Dawyna nodded and left the room, casting a glance at Arador on her way out. Her stomach growled, but the Resistance was set on a strict three-meal-a-day diet while supplies were so unattainable. It would be another two hours before lunch. So she gritted her teeth and started to wander the hallway, unsure of her next destination. After several minutes of this, she decided to head back to her meager apartment, on the other side of the base. She walked with her head down, her chin-length black hair falling in front of her face. 

Gooseflesh rose on the back of her arms as the air seemed to plummet in temperature. Dawnya stopped dead in her tracks, and confusedly turned around, expecting her breath to mist in the frigid air. But it didn't. None of the other crewers seemed to notice the change, only staring puzzledly at her perplexed expression. Her gut told her that something was wrong. It felt so completely, utterly wrong. 

Then it all culminated into something else; a jolt. Dawnya trembled as her eyes flickered up to meet a hard, obsidian gaze, one that almost matched her's exactly. She stumbled backwards, her heart pounding, and sprinted away from the man. She knew who it was, although the rational part of her was in denial. She gasped as she ducked into her apartment and slammed the door shut, seemingly safe from the shadowy menace. 

Except that she wasn't. He was here now, standing impassively with his arms crossed. A pale scar was slashed across his face, and Dawnya faintly wondered how this man had managed to keep his organic eye after such an injury. She pressed herself against the wall.

It was Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren, the most infamous man alive. She'd heard stories about the Jedi killer, that he was unhinged and unstable. Her mother had few words to say about him, but none of them were kind. Dawnya knew that he was the last remaining member of the Skywalker clan. Rey had told her that much. "He made it certain that his bloodline would die with him," she'd said, disgusted.

But nothing could've prepared Dawnya for the sight of this man in all of his infamy, standing right before her eyes. She'd seen him in her dreams, nightmares, visions, whatever you wanted to call them. But never in the flesh. He looked faintly surprised to see her, too, but he didn't show any other signs of outward shock as he stepped forward. She shivered as she saw his hand slide to his belt, where his lightsaber was sheathed. "Who are you?" he hissed, bewildered.

Dawnya didn't respond as he tried to reach out through the Force and rifle through her mind. In the back of her head, she pondered over this new question. So her visions ... had he really interacted with her before? Or was it some twisted trick of the Force. It wasn't a normal dream, she had enough physical evidence to know that. She cried out as her vision flashed with pain and memory, swimming under her eyelids. "Stop..." she protested in a mumble, but it was futile. The mental barriers she'd set up with her training had been fractured in an instant. Was that even possible? Dawnya felt tears well at the corners of her eyes. She would _not_ cry in front of the Supreme Leader. She would not show weakness. "Stop! _Stop!_ " she yelled, and she felt a current pass through her mind, forcing Kylo out of her head.

Dawnya inhaled shakily and peered at Ren. She was shocked to find that his eyes had widened, and she could sense undeniable waves of shock ricocheting throughout his brain, agitating the Force around him. "You..." he breathed, pointing at her heart. Dawnya's stomach clenched with fear. "You're Rey's daughter. How is that possible?"

She didn't confirm or deny his statement. Obviously, he'd just pulled that information out of her head. So he hadn't seen her thoughts before. Or had he? Was he just playing coy? Dawnya's head spun with confusion. She shuddered to think about what else he'd managed to pick up. 

"Who is your father?" Kylo inquired, to her shock. Dawnya's frown deepened and she balled her fists. Her father (or supposed lack thereof) was a _very_ sore topic for her.

"That's none of your concern!" Dawnya growled, blood roaring in her ears. _Why the hell would you care, anyway?_ It took all of her restraint to prevent herself from attacking him right then and there. She bared her teeth like a she-wolf. "How did you find our base? How do you know who I am?"

Kylo blinked. "I'm not in your base," he answered, his voice surprisingly soft and dulcet.

Dawnya opened her mouth to retort, then shut it, eyes glittering. "What?"

"I don't know where you are, I'm not really there."

"Yeah, I got that." Dawnya crossed her arms. "But I don't believe you." She sneered and put her hands on her hips, taking a step forward, then another, until she was glaring at him from under his nose. Her hand crept towards her holster, where her TL-70 blaster was stored away. She noticed Kylo's gaze following her fingers, and was surprised when he didn't even react. Dawnya grabbed her blaster and curled her finger around the alternate fire trigger, pointing it directly at the Supreme Leader's chest. "Explain yourself."

Kylo glanced, almost sheepishly, at her weapon. His eyebrows rose, and his lips curled into an amused smirk. "Go ahead."

Dawnya refused to show her suspicion at his invitation. She was not one to hesitate. Hell, the only reason she hadn't shot him on sight was due to her crippling instinctual terror. But now she had a fighting chance. So she pulled the alt-fire trigger, releasing a blue concussion blast powerful enough to shatter the concrete floor. Heat washed over her face, and her skin stung as tiny bits of heated shrapnel flew at her. It was enough to tear anyone to pieces in an instant. Luckily, accidents were almost comically common on Cryx II, so no one would pay much attention to this explosion.

Yet somehow she was not surprised when the smoke cleared and Kylo was still standing there without so much as a scratch on his skin. Dawnya lowered her blaster, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You're not really here, are you?" she mused, her voice soft. Her eyes then widened with recognition. "Is this a Force bond?" Why the fuck would the Force forge one between her and Kylo, of all people.

"Language," Kylo said, almost idly, uncaringly. Dawnya flinched at the reminder that, oh yeah, he could see most of her thoughts. Dawnya's eyelids fluttered shut, and she deepened her breaths, reaching out with her feelings. She sensed the dark aura surrounding him like a raging storm, but it was shallow somehow, not multilayered. There was no foundation to his presence. Not within the vicinity, at least. So Dawnya tried to expand her mind, wandering through the tiny, broken room, and she gritted her teeth in concentration. Sweat broke out on her forehead as her brows furrowed, and she worked to expel him from her mind. Kylo let out a strangled yell of surprise---a very satisfying sound---and just like that, he was gone. Dawnya opened her eyes and inhaled shakily. Her limbs shook and she had to lean against the wall for leverage.

Rey had taught her what to do in such a situation, but _gods,_ did it take a lot of effort. Fatigue washed over her, and Dawnya could see in the broken glass that the blood had receded from her face, rendering her pallor even more eerily pale than usual.

Dawnya rubbed her arms and exited the room, ducking her head. As she walked to her quarters, she wondered when she'd see Kylo Ren again, and what would happen. This was something else. She needed to tell Rey.


End file.
